I wake to a knock at my door.
I roll over and rub my eyes. Isn't it a little early for visitors? My cell reads 9:13 AM, far earlier than I'd like to get up on a Saturday morning after a night of restless sleep.
The knock sounds again, and I groan.
“Go away!” I yell at the unwanted guest. This crappy apartment is tiny enough—and the walls thin enough—that I have no doubt he or she hears me.
It's only then that I remember the events of yesterday and the encounter with Garrett in the parking lot. I flip open my phone.
“You better get out of here,” I say. “I'm calling the police.”
But it's not Garrett's voice that answers me—it's Calder's.
“Lily. Can I talk to you?”
I scramble out of bed. What’s he doing here?
“Just a minute!” I say. I look frantically around the room for something—anything—that isn't the ratty T-shirt I'm currently wearing. I can’t believe he would just show up at my apartment. Doesn’t he have bigger things to worry about? I haven’t heard from him in two months. Did my texts last night really trigger some change of heart?
I should probably send him away. I’m not sure I’m ready for this conversation yet. I’m not even sure what I want to happen, what I want him to say. I was just starting to resign myself to the idea that I’d never see or hear from him again. He can’t just show up like this. Not without giving me the chance to mentally prepare.
I find a pair of jeans draped over a chair and tug them on. I pull off my T-shirt, then grab a black tank top out of my top drawer and put that on in its place. But where's my brush? I scrabble around on my desk for something to pull through my hair, but in the end I just tug the tangled strands back and tie them in a ponytail.
By the time I make it to the door, I'm breathless and flushed.
“Good morning,” I say with more energy than I feel. I look up at the man who's caused me so much angst over the last few months.
Damn. I don't know how it's possible, but he's even sexier than I remember. He's let his hair get a little longer, the scruff a little thicker, and it's a good look for him. His eyes seem both darker and brighter all at once, and I feel that familiar tugging in my belly. I reach out and prop my hand on the doorframe, trying to look more confident and steadier than I feel.
“Lily,” he says. His voice is smooth as silk and thick as velvet, and I imagine that I can feel it on my very skin.
“Yes?” My own voice is high and thin.
“May I come in?”
I move wordlessly aside. He steps inside, brushing against me as I pass. My heart flutters in my chest. I can't believe that after all these months I still react so strongly and so suddenly to his nearness.
My apartment only has two rooms: the kitchen/living room and the bedroom. I know better than to lead him into my bedroom, so I usher him into the kitchen.
“Would you like anything? Coffee?” I begin fiddling with my crappy coffeemaker. My hands are shaking as I peel off a new filter. I feel Calder's eyes on my back the entire time.
“Is it all right that I'm here?” he says quietly.
I look up in surprise.
“I mean, you didn't answer my text,” he says. “I don't want to intrude. If you don't want me here, just say the word, and I'll leave.”
I stare at him for a long moment, shocked by the genuine concern I see in his features.
“You're not intruding.” I ram a few buttons on the coffeemaker. “But I would like to know why you're here in the first place.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I just…” He sighs. “I just wanted to explain.”
The coffeemaker starts burbling, and I turn to face him. I'm not sure whether I should sit or stand, so I lean against the back of the chair.
“What do you need to explain?”
His gaze on me is dark, intense. “Everything.”
Oh. This is definitely a conversation where I need to sit. I pull out the chair and sink down. My feet brush against his beneath the table, and he doesn't move away.
“I'll admit, I was surprised to get your text yesterday. Pleasantly surprised. I didn't expect to hear from you ever again.”
I tug at the hem of my tank top. “I just wanted you to know that I'd taken your advice.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I'm glad you texted.” His thumb slides across the back of my hand. “I've been thinking…”
He trails off, and for a brief moment I think he's expecting me to finish his sentence, to know exactly what he's here to say. I don't dare take a guess.
“I want to talk about the money. And why I lied.”
He tightens his grip on my fingers.
“My father…” His eyes search my face. “My father was a good man, in many ways, as I'm sure you know. He loved me and my sister. He gave a lot of money to a lot of worthy causes.” He sighs. “But he had a number of problems, too. He was too trusting, too gullible. He made a number of terrible investments and allowed himself to be caught up in a couple of financial disasters. He did his best to cover it up, of course, and he hid most of it from me and Louisa, too. We didn't realize the extent of his financial problems until after he died.”
He looks so sad, so emotionally exhausted, that I feel like my heart is going to burst. I squeeze his fingers encouragingly. He gives a small smile.
“And so I've spent the last several months trying to set things right. I've laid off most of our family's employees—except the lawyers, of course, though they’ll soon be gone, too. And I've kept Martin as long as I could, since he's been with us so long. I've been working with an auction house to catalog a lot of our things, as well as a realtor to list the house inconspicuously.”
The coffeemaker dings behind me, but I ignore it.
“So you have to sell everything?”
His fingers jerk through his hair again. “Most of it, if I want to cover all his debts. It's—it's a mess. I've been elbow-deep in this for months now.” He glances up at me. “Which is why I was so pleased when you showed up and offered a most delightful distraction.”
I don't know what to say to this, either, so I just look down at our interlinked hands.
“I shouldn't have misled you,” he says. “It was never my intention. But I got caught up in it all. I wanted to keep you around. You wanted the money, and that was all I had to entice you to play along with me. It was wrong, I know, but I was a desperate man. You were the first bright spot in my life after months of dealing with wills and debts and the legal muddle my father left. I'm sorry.”
I frown. His apology seems genuine, but I'm still not sure what to make of all this.
“I understand what you're saying,” I tell him, “but I still can't figure out why you're here now.”
He pulls his hand away from mine. Suddenly he seems awkward, too formal.
“First of all,” he says, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. What happened with Garrett? Did he hurt you?”
I don’t want to get into this, not after he’s laid out so many of the other things that formerly stood between us. But I don’t want to lie to him, either.
“I thought he might. He scared me. But I haven’t seen him since. He’s intense, but I don’t think he’ll violate a restraining order.”
Calder doesn’t look as if he believes me. His jaw is set, his shoulders rigid.
“I swear, if he lays a hand on you—”
“He won’t. I won’t let him.”
Calder doesn’t look so sure. “I’ll act as a witness if you need one. At the very least I’ll go to the hearing with you.”
His concern stirs something in me, and I reach over and grab his hand again.
“This is the first time you and I have seen each other in months. Do we have to talk about Garrett?”
His eyes darken, and he twists his hand to tighten his fingers around my own.
“You’re right,” he says. “I have more important things to say. I need to formally apologize. For e
verything. The letter I sent wasn't nearly enough. I've wanted to talk to you for so long. I've been thinking about you ever since you stormed away from me that day. But I didn't think you wanted to hear from me, and the longer I went without hearing anything from you, the more I believed it.
“I sent the letter in desperation one day when I couldn't take the guilt anymore. I tried to justify my horrible behavior to myself and to you, but in the end I'm afraid I just made everything worse. I thought about sending another letter, excusing the first, or calling you, or even just showing up here—but I didn't want to turn into another stalker ex-lover of yours.”
I force a half smile.
“Your text message gave me hope,” he continues. “I wanted to see you again, to explain everything. When I didn't get a response, I—I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about it. I knew I'd go crazy if I couldn't talk to you. And so I came here.”
I look at him across the table. No one, seeing his face right now, could doubt his sincerity. I want to forgive him, I do, but there's more we have to settle.
“I need to apologize to you, too,” I say. “I've realized since I left you how selfishly I behaved, demanding that money from you. If I'd have known—”
“It's not your fault you didn't know,” he interjects. “It's mine. I had a dozen chances to tell you.”
“Still, I should have respected your decision. And I shouldn’t have judged you without knowing the full story.” I look down again at our hands, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “I just want you to know, that—that everything that happened between us… it wasn't about the money. You were right. The money was just an excuse, a reason for me to, to…” I feel my cheeks go hot, and suddenly I don't want to be sitting at this table anymore. I try to stand, but Calder keeps his grip on my hands and pulls me back down.
“And I want you to know,” he says, his voice low and gravely, “that you weren't just a distraction for me.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my response dies on my tongue beneath the intensity of his gaze.
“That's another reason I'm here,” he says. “I wanted to see if maybe you would let me take you out sometime.”
The question is so absurd after everything that's happened that I break out laughing. His face darkens, and I quickly rush to reassure him.
“I'm just surprised. I don't mean—I mean, I don't—I didn't…” My cheeks are on fire now, and I don't know where to look.
“Lily.”
I force myself to look him in the eyes. My stomach is in knots, and I can feel my pulse beating in my ears.
“You're allowed to say no,” he tells me softly.
“No!” I say quickly. “I mean—no, I don't want to say no.”
The look on his face makes my heart swell in my chest. Before I can say anything else, he stands and pulls me into his arms.
“You don't know how happy you've made me.” His hands twine in my hair. “I know I'm not a sexy billionaire anymore, but I hope I have a few other redeeming qualities.”
“Money or not, you're still sexy,” I assure him. I gaze up at him through my lashes.
He laughs and tugs me closer. “So I have a chance, then?”
“Perhaps.”
His mouth finds mine, and heat rushes through me, as intense as it was two months ago. I could melt into him all over again, right here, right now.
But he breaks away from me.
“Will you come out to the estate, just one last time? I’m almost done moving out, but there's something I want you to see first.”
I look up at him. After everything that happened, I never expected him to show up at my door, much less ask to continue our little romance. I have no idea what will happen between us in the coming months, but I'm willing to take the chance on that sweet smile of his and that wicked gleam in his eye.
“Come on,” I say, and give him another kiss. “I want you to show me everything.”
CHAPTER TWENTY